My death will arrive one day,
It may be a bright, spring dawn,
It may be a distant winter dusk,
Or perhaps a silent night-
of a foggy, frozen fall.
gloomy, bright or cloudy, yet,
it will be an empty day-
like all the rest:
a figment of the future,
a picture of the past.
My eyes like dark holes,
My face like cold marbles;
I’ll be taken away in a swift sleep,
leaving behind my colorful dreams.
My hands will fall on the pallor of a page,
My rhyming thoughts will flee from their cage,
My mind losing to the vibration of this last verse;
And then, there will be no sorrow, no pain-
incessantly calling my name,
so they will arrive to place me inside the grave.
Oh, perhaps my lovers, at all midnights-
will put some flowers on my lone place.
the thick shades of my world-
will be suddenly pulled away:
In the full moon-light, one night-
strangers will read on my rhymes…
They will step in my little room,
a sunny day, in my memory.
Next to my mirror yet, they will find
a lock of my hair,
the signs of life-
like a sailboat,
It will escape,
free of myself and missing from my corpse.
I will fade away at the borders of sight,
like a vagabond kite,
in an endless flight.
Days so quickly get to weeks,
And weeks become months as fast;
You’ll stare into eyes of the clock,
waiting in vain my letters, my calls.
My lifeless body will calmly rest-
far from you and the pounds of your heart-
in the voiceless arms of Mother Earth.
The sun, the wind and the rain,
will polish the cold stone of my grave:
And lastly I'll be free-
from the myths of return,
name and fame.
Translation: Maryam Dilmaghani, July 2006, Montreal.
Forough Farrokhzad's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Later On by Forough Farrokhzad )
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- If, Rudyard Kipling
- Daffodils, William Wordsworth
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Annabel Lee, Edgar Allan Poe
- If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
- Alone, Edgar Allan Poe
- Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, Dylan Thomas
- Death is Nothing at All, Henry Scott Holland
- Matilda Who told Lies, and was Burned to.., Hilaire Belloc
Poem of the Day
- Secularism in true sense, Rm.Shanmugam Chettiar.
- Mark o Connor's ballad of a man from sno.., Juwon Daniel
- you need to know: (, Manauwer Raza
- Solitary song, gajanan mishra
- To Sleep I Go, Michael P. McParland
- Beneath The Joy, Margaret Moran
- This funny thing called Snow, Angell Afinowi
- One Last Chance, Abby Bilan
- Love Note 9, Michael P. McParland
- Lamentation of the Weak, Abby Bilan